


Our Forever Has Fallen

by art3mis33



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adopted Children, DMLE | Department of Magical Law Enforcement (Harry Potter), Declarations Of Love, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes (Hermione Granger), Department of Mysteries, Eating Disorders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Familial Abuse, Friendship/Love, Love at First Sight, Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Recovery, Romance, Single Parent Draco Malfoy, Smut, Temporary Amnesia, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27172918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/art3mis33/pseuds/art3mis33
Summary: Whilst Hermione investigates a trail of magic spells and charms casted by underage wizards and witches alike- seemingly misplaced charms but purely with goodhearted intentions she reckons-, the young intern witch finds herself in a small countryside Inn, face to face with a self-exiled Draco Malfoy preparing a hearty breakfast for five little children.
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A WIP to feed my cravings for Draco Malfoy in a domestic life setting, accompanied by none other than Hermione Granger. I hope that with each chapter, you'll be able to detach yourself from reality somewhat, to leave all the stress behind and purely enjoy a Dramione-centered story. <3 much love.
> 
> edit: will not be updated

One: Reconnection

Disappointment wouldn’t even begin to describe what Hermione felt when she was first informed of her official tasks as an employee of the Ministry of Magic. She should’ve known that her internship at the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, would be an utter nightmare. In the first week, she was poring over page after page of every guidebook, case study and begrudgingly boring report there was in the past six years on how to properly deal with muggle intervention. Not that she minded, but as a muggle herself Hermione had obviously not gained one grain of knowledge except for the spells commonly used to memory-wipe the witnesses at these events (which of course she was already familiar with). She was distraught upon learning that her colleagues weren’t the least bit interested in providing any sort of professional guidance either.

At first, the young witch had determined that a three-month internship wouldn’t kill her. It would give her an advantage upon her employment at the Department of Mysteries and put her a step further than just ‘entry-level’ and majority of her peers. She had signed the contract willingly but much to her chagrin, she was being pushed this way and that like a naïve little girl. ‘Hermione would you owl this for me?’ or ‘Hermione would you be a dear and fetch some biscuits?’ or ‘Hermione would you grab some coffee for the rest of us, the ol’ Wonk won’t be in office for the rest of the day.’ The witch had quite literally split her bottom lip, from biting it down in sheer anger and frustration. She knew that if she were to report her colleagues’ obvious laziness to the supervisor in question, she’d strain their professional relationship. Albeit their uselessness both in paper and field work, Hermione depended on their written appraisals to get her one step ahead as Junior Auror. If she were to survive through this internship, Hermione would be hailed the youngest Junior Auror in the books- second to Harry.

So, here she was stepping out of an old, dusty fireplace and discovering that she had indeed reached her desired destination- a post office in the middle of a small, rural town called St. Johns. Hermione patted herself down, coughing from the collected ashes that had gathered around her feet. She flicked the ashes away with her wand and hoped that it wouldn’t stain the sleeves of her silk white dress-shirt and plaid brown pencil skirt; lacking in style but nonetheless standard workwear in Hermione’s books. Once Hermione raised her head however, she was startled to see an old man seated behind a counter with a newspaper in his hands. The witch opened her mouth to greet him, when a sudden loud snore cut her off. She blinked in confusion, only to discover that the postman was asleep with his eyes wide open.

“Good day to you too sir.” Hermione managed to murmur under her breath. Great, not even the postman wants to speak to me.

Granger picked up her pace, stepping out of the post office to where a field of yellow wildflowers greeted her. She pulled out her parchment, and trailed a finger down the list. Today, Hermione was put in charge of obliviating muggle witnesses for much lesser charms performed by a series of unknowing underage witches and wizards. Her day had started as early as four a.m. and it was already well into the early afternoon. Despite her exhaustion, Hermione hadn’t minded her travels that day and had obviously chosen to do so by floo, instead of on a broomstick. Goodness, she wouldn’t be caught dead trying to get on a broomstick ever again. The last attempt had put her into a state of motion sickness, and she was forced to call sick that day. When she returned to work, she became the object of ‘light-hearted’ jokes and Hermione would’ve believed her colleagues if they hadn’t particularly repeated the same joke over and over again straight for eight working hours.

As Hermione trudged down the dirt trail, she thought back fondly to the previous case half an hour ago. An eight-year-old boy named had managed to bring his neighbour’s black cat down to safety from a tree that was three-storeys high. Fortunately, the witness was an elderly woman in her seventies who had sworn that she hadn’t started ‘seeing things’ when the innocent boy had casted wingardium leviosa on her beloved cat. Hermione had gifted the boy a chocolate treat, winked and assured his parents that all would be well. The charm itself had made her think back to the first time Ron had managed the charm itself in their first year- fortunately saving her from a dungeon troll in the girls’ lavatory. Hermione was lost in her thoughts, suddenly recalling how she had to politely reject Mrs Granger’s invitation for dinner the prior weekend. She had terribly missed the Weasley family so but she’d sworn to herself that she’d never see Ron again.

It’s inevitable, Hermione reminded herself over and over again. Falling out of love is completely normal.

She was about to remiss the events that led up to her breakup with Weasley before a chortle of laughter caught her attention. Just in time, two new names and an address inked itself into the charmed parchment Hermione held onto. She raised the finicky thing to compare it to the peculiar signage hanging at the door of the establishment – The Red Ribbon it read in gentle, elegant cursive letters with a matching crimson ribbon tied around the corner.

Hermione headed towards the entrance of the Inn, wondering if there were any older adults in the children’s’ midst to supervise them. The young witch observed her surroundings, wondering how such a beautiful garden had been kept hidden away in the otherwise dull, empty town. It almost felt as if she had discovered a gem at the bottom of the ocean- there were wildflowers of every kind and colour, and the allure of a secret garden had absolutely transfixed the young witch. She inhaled a deep breath. The faint scent of early morning rain seeping through the dirt was so much more relaxing compared to the scent of ash and smoke one would find early morning downtown.

The bumbling chatter of children startled her again. Hermione quickly refocused on the task at hand, turned a corner and found the young witch in question who had managed to cast Incendio on a tall pile of scrapped newspaper. Hermione raised an eyebrow- her arrival had not been noticed by the smaller children till she raised her wand. Pyromania hardly infested in the hearts of young children, but they seemed to enjoy watching the flame glow from orange to an alarming blue. Hermione decided that it was best to step in immediately rather than to find their parents.

“Finite Icantatem.” The flame distinguished itself almost immediately, and the remains of the burnt papers floated down to the grass patch. Hermione retracted her wand, slipping it back into her sleeve.

On the other hand, the collective gasp was quite satisfying to say the least. The children had gaped at her wide-eyed and suddenly four heads were hiding behind the tallest child, peering at Hermione from behind the genius, yet naughty witch. Hermione flashed them a friendly smile, trying her best not to seem hostile. Poor children- their parents must’ve scared them into thinking the Ministry would take them away if they were ever caught practicing magic outside of school grounds.

“It’s alright, don’t be afraid.” Hermione spoke with her welcoming tone, “My name is Hermione Granger and you are…?”

According to her parchment, Hermione knew that the child’s name was Magnolia Strange and that she had recently turned eleven the week before. The young, brilliant witch had just received the formal letter regarding her enrolment as a Beaubaxtons student. Magnolia’s ears had turned a shade of pink at getting caught using magic, and licked her lips cautiously. At the child’s speechlessness, Hermione bent down to her height and held a gentle hand towards her. She sighed in relief when the child took her hand and mumbled her greeting loosely.

“Magnolia...” The little girl bit onto her bottom lip. “Are you here to take me away?”

Hermione’s expression must’ve morphed into one of concern immediately, as the four smaller children seemed to grab at Magnolia’s arms and frock, trying to keep her away from the scary older witch. Hermione immediately shook her head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Magnolia, but no dear. I assure you; you’ve done nothing wrong little one.” She spoke loud and clear, hoping that it would ease their nervousness. Goodness, she’s never had this effect on children. They usually took up kindly to her with a friendly, open smile. Hermione chides herself; she must’ve scared them by appearing unannounced.

She cocked her head to the side for a moment, and soon identified a blob of blonde hair behind Magnolia who was undoubtedly the muggle child who had witnessed the pyro-charm. “I believe the Beaubaxtons have gained themselves a lovely, genius young witch in their midst. You should be proud. Not many first years are able to perform the Incendio spell. I know it to be one of the more complicated ones, to be very honest.”

At the comment, Magnolia’s dark raven curls suddenly morph into a frighteningly bright ginger and it positively shocks the hell out of Hermione. The witch doesn’t have time to react however, the small girl almost knocks her down to the ground with the biggest hug she could give.

“You really think so?” Magnolia exclaims gleefully. The young child’s hair beginning to interchange rapidly between black and ginger, almost a spot-on match to Hermione’s own thick mane.

“Y- yes of course, without a doubt.” Hermione nods, trying to tear her eyes away from the obvious signs of Magnolia’s metamorphagus behaviour with little success. She had never met a metamorphagus before- except for Nymphadora Tonks who had unfortunately passed during the Great War-, much less someone so young. She clears her throat. “But I believe your parents have told you that you’re not supposed to perform magic in front of your muggle friends. Especially in front of Petro.”

At the sound of his name, the blonde boy probably not more than four years old glances at Hermione. The young witch gives him a smile as she reaches her hand out to curl around the tinier palm and shook it lightly. The four-year-old was fiddling with a dead leaf in his other hand, and stared at Hermione with big blue eyes. She tells herself that a memory wipe won’t be necessary at this point, and the next step would be to speak to the adults in-charge.

“I’d like to speak to your parents please.” She asks politely. “May I know where they are?”

“My…my parents – “

“She has no parents. Granger.” The cold, monotone voice sent Hermione spiralling backwards, her arms flying out to shield the children away from the wizard that neared them. A wave of panic took hold of her almost immediately, and the first thought that crossed her mind was how to get the children to safety. Her wand was at the ready, but she couldn’t stop the tremors that shook her hands like an earthquake.

The sight of the alum Slytherin wizard put Granger’s stomach in a knot. Horrors of the war had flooded into her mind in a single blink of an eye, as if it was just yesterday that she was tortured ruthlessly in Malfoy Manor. The scar on her left forearm began to itch horribly. Hermione had to fight back the useless tears that had begun to pool under her eyes, a mix of despair and panic ringing in her head. Lord Malfoy said nothing more, training his eyes on her own as his left hand hovered over the wand pocketed in his slacks.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione snarled; a disarming hex almost at the tip of her tongue. Hermione. _Think, think! You have to get them out of there. Now!_

“Leave the children be Malfoy, I will hex you myself if you so much as draw your wand." She threatened between gritted teeth, wand pointed two inches away from Malfoy’s face.

In return, Draco suddenly dropped his wand to the grass then held his hands up as he got on his knees. He held his hands behind his head in surrender, with his eyes downcast as if avoiding Hermione’s gaze shamefully. The knots in Hermione’s stomach began to twist once more but she dared herself to near the wizard, to retrieve the wand. Before she could do so however, young Magnolia appeared in front of her and picked up the wand casually before Hermione could yell in panic. The young girl offered Draco Malfoy’s wand to her in open palms.

For a moment, Hermione was utterly shocked at how fresh tears were rolling down the eleven-year-old’s cheeks. Her lips trembled and a single plea was heard between the silent sobs. “Please don’t hurt Draco. Please Miss Granger. I promise I won’t play with my wand anymore.”

At Hermione’s speechlessness, Draco raised his chin up and spoke a sentence Hermione had never thought she’d hear from the Slytherin alum.

“My name is Draco Malfoy. I am the legal guardian of Magnolia and Edward Strange, Taewoon Kim and Aaila Jai. I’m also the trusted caregiver to young Petro Fawkes but his mother should be here soon to pick her up.”

Hermione’s grip tightened over Draco Malfoy’s wand, struggling to maintain eye contact with the wizard’s familiar grey eyes. But the longer she held their gaze, it felt as if she was staring at nothing. Hermione briefly plucked at the history from the recusants of her mind- Lord Malfoy had been sentenced to house arrest for three years, and right afterwards, had disappeared out of public eye for two… till now. Draco’s skin was paler than a sheet of parchment, and his aristocrat cheekbones looked almost hollowed out even more than Hermione thought was possible. He had obviously grown taller, more lanky and less refined with a five o’clock shadow stubble. Hermione realized that what she was staring at was merely the shell of a schoolboy she once knew.

Yes of course, it’s been six years since they’d seen each other. But it almost felt like a whole lifetime had passed, in Hermione’s eyes.

“I have the legal papers in my study, Granger.” Malfoy starts, “If you allow me to present them as evidence, you won’t need to hex me in front of the children.”

Malfoy’s annotation at the children strikes the wrong chord deep in Hermione’s gut, clearly feeling guilty but she keeps her hands steady. She had already pulled Magnolia tightly into an embrace, wrapping her small arms around her legs to ensure that the children were as close as possible if there came the need to apparate to the Ministry.

“I’m thoroughly a hundred percent responsible for Magnolia’s poor behaviour this morning.” Malfoy continues an attempt to lax the increasingly dangerous tension in the air. “As her adoptive father, I apologize. Sincerely.”

Adoptive father? What utter bloody bullshit! I wouldn’t believe this man even if he drank a whole vial of Veritaserum!

“Tell me the truth Malfoy! What are you doing here?!”

At this point, the witch was already digging her nails deep enough into her palm that she almost drew blood. Hermione’s entire shaking frame grew tense by the second, electricity began to spark at the ends of her mane involuntarily and the children began to step away from the whole scene. Magnolia held onto all of them, but none of the other four children dared to make a sound. Not even a gasp or a sob.

“Granger you’re scaring them.” Draco’s tensed, over-protective tone was irritating her nerves, sounding as if he truly cared about the children’s’ safety when he had not even a drop of mercy in her otherwise torturous experience in their younger years, for simply being a mudblood. Memories of first year Draco Malfoy was beginning to resurface, like ink bleeding onto parchment. Hermione swallowed back her tears. “I swear I can explain.”

Draco was already gritting his teeth, panicked eyes shifting between Hermione and the children who were about to cry any second. He raised his voice with every second passing. “Granger stop it. They’re my children, what more do you need to know?!”

In an instant, Hermione crossed the gap between them and lodged her wand just above Malfoy’s Adam’s apple. “Not a word more, until I see those papers. You and I will have a chat inside.”

That singular moment felt far too familiar for both witch and wizard. For a split second their eyes met, and Hermione wished that things had been a little bit different than this. The repetitive cycle of threatening Draco to blow his stupid head off was beginning to tire her ever since her fifth year and even now dreadful memories of her past in the Malfoy Manor were starting to resurface. Hermione gritted her teeth and forced herself to close the lid on that pandora box as she followed Draco’s resounding steps round the little secret garden that surrounded the Red Ribbon. She had absolutely no time to curl into a ball and drown herself in her own tears. Her scar was beginning to itch but she resisted the urge to rip herself apart- literally and figuratively. She gripped onto Draco’s freezing cold wand tightly, reminding herself that she was in control now. She finally had the upper hand.

“It’s… It’s nice to see you again, Granger.” Draco murmured low; eyes averted from her piercing stare. He had opened the door for her and beckoned her forth, ever maintaining the gentleman manners of a Pureblood Aristocrat.

Hermione steeled herself to take the first step into the Red Ribbon.

“I wish I could say the same, Malfoy.”

\-------------------------------------------------------

The documents spread out across the table do nothing to reassure Hermione. None of them have the Ministry of Magic’s gold emblems. Instead, Malfoy had reached out to the muggle government to adopt four magical children excluding little Petro who was deep in slumber in his cot upstairs. Hermione casts another glance towards the four remaining children sat in a line on the bench to her left, all silent and well-behaved unlike how she’d first found them. The smell of grilled seafood and fresh basil filled up the first floor of the rather large Inn. Hermione figures that Malfoy had charmed the otherwise small Inn to offer up as much space as he wanted. More shockingly, she was served a warm lemon tea with exactly two sugars, by Draco Malfoy himself. Hermione didn’t see a single trace of a house elf in the Red Ribbon, which didn’t suit Malfoy at all. Perhaps he had been barred from hiring one.

“You can’t expect me to believe this.” Hermione scowled, quickly becoming increasingly infuriated, by every page she’s read. “Out of all people, you were suddenly inspired to care for not one but four children? This is a Rita Skeeter-worthy headline for Godric’s sake! And you reached out to the British Government to adopt them?”

“I adopted four of them. It says here Granger,” Malfoy leant back in his chair as he pointed towards the documents, completely ignoring Hermione’s blatant disbelief. “I signed as legal guardian for Edward and Magnolia, just a year ago from the neighbouring orphanage. If you hadn’t noticed, this is a Muggle town and the caregivers there had wanted to kick the pair out immediately when Magnolia discovered her… colour-changing tendencies.”

Hermione’s heart clenched upon the realization. She glanced momentarily at Edward, a short lanky boy a little older than Magnolia who held her hand protectively. Magnolia had fortunately calmed down, but her eyes were directed to the ground in obvious shame and remorse for her actions that early afternoon. Hermione bit down onto her bottom lip. The two siblings must’ve felt so helpless – it wasn’t Magnolia’s fault for not knowing how to control her Metamorphagus abilities.

The first question Magnolia had imposed to her earlier suddenly makes much more sense. ‘Are you here to take me away?’, the innocent girl had asked and Hermione’s calm composure almost shattered right there and then. Malfoy doesn’t seem to take notice of the change and continued to explain.

“I hadn’t reached out to adopt anymore children, lest taking care of two was already giving me a headache. Until the day they were quite literally brought to my doorstep.” Draco revealed. “A church from the next town over brought Aaila to me last winter, claiming they had taken her in as a child of a refugee.”

“And what was Aaila’s predicament, at the time?” Hermione questioned, hands curling around the warm cup of tea. She tried to soothe her nerves as best as she could, taking in all of this information was beginning to make her head throb from the stress and the sheer disbelief that Malfoy had ended up a father of four a mere six years after the end of the Great War.

“She’s a parseltongue- a true genius that one. Summoned a few harmless snakes from the forest nearby to slip into the girls’ lavatory.” Malfoy explained, a smirk ghosting his lips pridefully.

Hermione gasped softly, hand raising to her lips. In response, Draco determinedly shook his head to quell any of her concerns. “They were all very harmless, I assure you. Baby snakes. A vengeful attempt at the girls who bullied her during her stay there.”

Draco turned to look at the children, particularly at the girl whose tan skin contrasted greatly against the other three, looking the odd one out. Hermione doesn’t miss the way Malfoy’s proud grin dropped before he added on, “All I know of Aaila’s family, other than being a Slytherin descendant of course, was that her parents had either drowned in the ocean or were shot dead when they attempted to enter the UK illegally. Aaila’s parents were both muggles, refugees of the Syrian civil war.”

The last few words from Draco made Hermione’s mind race to catch up. Her eyes widened in a shocking realization but Draco had already beat her to it. “She was saved by complete strangers and humanitarian volunteers though they failed to properly see through her welfare.”

Malfoy’s cutting tone was unsurprising, ever so blunt and without filter. Hermione was glad that he had decided to cast Muffliato to safeguard the children’s innocence and obviously avoid stressing them out any further. Hermione herself had done enough to scare the children already and it wasn’t pleasant to admit that this time round, she had been the green-eyed monster instead of the infamous Lord Draco Lucius Malfoy.

“A half-blood?” Hermione folded her arms and snarled between gritted teeth. “You took a half-blood under your wing, despite your previous involvement in pureblood rioting? You shan’t take me a fool Malfoy.”

Hermione is about to stand and owl Harry immediately to take Malfoy for questioning but the wizard cuts her off. “I’ve put the pureblood history behind me, Granger. I’ve rehabilitated, re-educated myself regarding both muggle and wizard worlds and once again, I apologize for the cruel, vile words that I used to repeat when we were younger…” Malfoy retaliates, with a rather solemn expression. He averted his eyes away; Hermione thinks it’s because he can’t seem to meet her furious, dagger-sharp stare.

He adds on, “I believe I’ve made my personal intentions and formal apology public on behalf of the Malfoy family, through the Daily Prophet no less. Made the front page about two years back before I went off the grid. Surely you’ve read it… Granger?”

Hermione grits her teeth in annoyance- he’s right, Draco had indeed written a front page-worthy essay of the Malfoy family’s stance on their previous involvement in the Great War. It was published by the Daily Prophet the day after Malfoy’s house arrest had ended, and had been backed by Headmistress McGonagall herself. It was also dutifully signed off by his mother Narcissa and his father and former Master of the Malfoy Household, Lucius Malfoy himself. Hermione had her doubts about Draco’s father signing off on the public apology willingly, and instead had settled to the mere explanation that he had been coerced forcefully. In actuality, the young witch had cut out the newspaper clipping and hid it in one of her bedroom drawers. She often picked it up to read in the middle of the night after waking up from the indescribable nightmares she suffered from the first year after the Great War had ended. It did little to calm her nerves, but after re-reading the article for close to an hour Hermione would always eventually be lulled to a dreamless sleep.

“Have you received my letter as well?” Malfoy inquired. When Hermione didn’t answer, Draco pressed on in a careful tone, “Granger?”

“Yes, I received it Malfoy.” Hermione abruptly answers him as she picks up one of the adoption documents to distract herself. “Forgiving you is an entirely different matter; I wish not to speak of this again.”

“I…” Draco’s mouth is left open like a fish out of water. His expression pales, before tipping his head down. “I’m sorry. I truly am, Granger.”

The third apology Hermione has and will ever hear in her lifetime from Draco Malfoy goes blatantly ignored. Hermione recalls how she had received Draco’s letter by a rather handsome eagle owl one fine day. But when she saw the Malfoy insignia, had decided to burn it in the fireplace almost immediately. But for some reason, she simply couldn’t do it- not even cast Incendio to burn it to a satisfying crisp. No, instead the letter had been tucked away at the bottom of her purse and followed her everywhere she went for six years straight unopened. She could never bring herself to open it, either out of fear or blatant anger directed at the wizard who stood before, she didn’t know. More importantly, Malfoy doesn’t need to know anything about her internal struggles either way.

Hermione’s eyes scanned through the passages of Taewoon Kim-Malfoy’s adoption papers, and finds that unlike the other three, Taewoon’s blood family had been identified or at least a God-father.

“Blaise Zabini? Tell me how a boy with an Asian surname came into the care of the Zabini family?” Hermione hissed sternly, holding herself back from yelling at Malfoy in front of the children. She was two seconds from stupefying Draco from where he sat, hand gripping onto her wand hidden below the table.

A tensed silence. Draco’s answer was highly unsatisfactory. “You’ll have to speak to Zabini yourself. It’s not my tale to tell.”

“And what about reaching out to the Ministry?” Hermione questioned him pin-pointedly. “You know that sooner or later the Trace will detect all four of them. Especially since a few of them are gifted.”

Draco’s shoulders seemed heavier, and by the sullen expression on his face Hermione knew that he had attempted to delay communication with the Ministry of Magic for as long as he could. She was about to speak before Draco interjected, two fingers pinched in between the bridge of his no. His eyes fell closed as he muttered low, “I’m assuming you’re aware that Zabini works for the Department of Mysteries?”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed at the news, whether it good or bad she didn’t know. “No. I’ve never even seen Zabini’s face on level three. Not even the tip of his nose. What are you getting at Malfoy?”

“It would be best for me to owl him to drop by, to speak to you properly. However, it will take some time…” Draco trailed off, fiddling with the teaspoon in his coffee. “I haven’t heard from him for a month now but it’s best to leave him to it due to his current predicament.”

“Give me a solid reason why I shouldn’t owl for Harry right now to set you straight.” Hermione stared at him disdained. “All of yours answers or so-called explanations are far-fetched, and I don’t really have that much faith in listening to Zabini more than a minute! You clearly have something to hide. Instead of handing them over to the Ministry to find their blood-related relatives, you skipped that protocol completely and jumped to care for the children yourself. What are you, daft?!”

Malfoy stood up to his full-height upon the threat and he loomed dangerously over the table for the first time. Hermione staggered backwards eyes-wide, wand flying back into her open hand instantly.

Malfoy kept his voice as low as he could, though he struggled to keep his tone civil. “I know that we’re not on good terms Granger but I assure you I’ve already applied for the appropriate papers a gazillion times through the Ministry. I have not received a single response, not even a proper rejection. If that were the case, I would have reluctantly sent them to the Ministry myself and do everything in my power to make sure they were taken in by good families. Zabini is trying to pull some strings to help me secure them, in return for looking after Taewoon.”

The moment Draco had stood up with his hands balled up into fists at either side, Taewoon jumped up from his seat and hurried to Draco’s side. He pried open Draco’s hand, yanking on it and mumbling something quietly. Hermione watched them worriedly, ready at any moment to launch herself at Draco if any harm were to come to the child. However, that moment never came. Instead, Draco wordlessly brought down the muffling barrier around him and the witch before gently brushing Taewoon’s fringe from his monolid eyes.

“You’re hungry?” Draco kneeled down to Taewoon’s height. At the boy’s nod, Draco directed his attention to the remaining three children. “Edward, there’s some bread in the oven. They should be warm by now. Aaila could you help Magnolia set the table while I speak to Miss Granger in my study? The salmon is already on the table, and please be careful with the plates.”

At each instruction, the children listened attentively, ears perking up, eyes wide with big smiles and to Hermione’s horror they did exactly as was told. All four children made their way to the kitchen at the back of the Inn, that Hermione couldn’t help her mouth falling open. Draco finished the last of his cold, black coffee with a loud slurp as the children chattered excitedly about the day’s special lunch. Hermione was caught in a trance, staring at Taewoon’s grabby hands clawing at the feet of his high-chair. She realized that Taewoon was trying to get into his pre-assigned seat himself. Draco swiftly drew his wand to lift Taewoon into the air, as his siblings busied about the kitchen. The shortest child was a giggling mess by the time he was strapped into his high chair safely, and made happy gurgling sounds as Magnolia served him a serving of crushed-up salmon.

“Pl-please?” Hermione croaked, her mind finally registering the words that Draco had said to the children. In return, the Slytherin alum snickered with a shake of his head.

“You?” She lifted a finger to point at Draco’s roman nose. “Did you just? You said?”

Draco pushed down Hermione’s finger with the side of his mug. “It might be difficult for you to believe Granger, but yes my mother did teach me a good amount of manners. If you’ve already gathered your wits, perhaps you can follow me to the study.”

At Hermione’s silence, Draco’s expression turned even more sullen than Hermione thought possible. “Or you can get Harry to apparate here and take me to the Ministry yourself if that’s what you wish to do.”

Hermione gave Draco one last look, eyes trailing from the bottom of his black slacks and matching black V-neck tee to his combed silver-blonde hair. It was no longer slicked back as how Hermione remembered him, and his long fringe fell just above his grey eyes. He looked every bit of a muggle who conveniently owned an Inn in the middle of a small deserted town, with a tea towel thrown over one shoulder. Perhaps he had even forgotten that it was still there, Hermione thought to herself. The Draco Malfoy she knew was one who dressed in the finest suit and tie worth more than just a bag of galleons, with its matching black and green embellishments as Slytherin heir to the pureblood Malfoy family. The simple wardrobe change made Hermione even more nervous, her prior suspicions towards Draco’s behavior teetered towards ridiculous assumptions by the second. Draco looked as if …he had changed, completely- as if he was a new man who wanted nothing more than to start a homely, domestic life with four children of his own.

“I’m staying. Here. I’m staying here.” Hermione blurts out her sudden announcement. “Until you can get a hold of Zabini to speak to me in person. You are the owner of this establishment, yes?”

Draco was apparently choking on thin air, Hermione thought to herself. It obviously wasn’t the coffee, he had just emptied it a few moments ago. The laughter of the children dulled in the background whilst a part of Hermione wished that she could swallow back her words and pretend that she’d call Harry down to investigate immediately. Her best friend could file an official request to investigate of course- he was already the youngest Auror in the Department of Mysteries and had the authority to take Draco Malfoy in for questioning. It would have been the most logical response, but for one turn or another, Hermione refrained herself. She’d rather hear what Zabini had to say, there were too many unanswered questions at this point and there were no actual charges Harry could press against Malfoy at this stage.

“I’ll be taking a leave of absence from work.” She looked down at her watch, realizing that it was indeed a Thursday afternoon. She could owl her supervisor and claim her holiday allowance. “I’ll stay here till Sunday. You have plenty of time to get Zabini to meet me here and explain to me in explicit detail as to how Lord Draco Malfoy came to be the father of four magical children.”

Blasphemy! Those last few words felt too strange on her tongue.

A sudden piercing cry from the sleeping toddler upstairs startled both witch and wizard. Hermione was shocked to see Draco break out into a sprint almost instantly. In a blink of an eye, he was already at the top of the stairs. Before Hermione could say anything more, Draco abruptly turned to look at her with the tea towel clenched tightly in hand. His wand was still on the table.

“Thank you, Granger.” Draco muttered gratefully. He looked stunned for words for a short moment and in the end only settled for, “You have my word, Zabini will be here in the next few days…. to help explain this mess.”

“Thank you.” Draco repeated himself, giving her a small tight smile before he disappeared up the stairs.

The young witch let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Hermione stumbled back into her seat as her mind raced to understand the events that had led her here into the Red Ribbon, equal parts shocked from Draco’s decently polite behavior and remorse from the indirect promise to keep Draco’s secret from the authorities including Harry.

_What in Godric’s name have I gotten myself into now?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments! to be honest, I was extremely anxious about this plot, I came up with it within a few hours and was bound to have a few plotholes here and there since I'm new to the potter fandom. I've resolved to going into my drafts and to salvage a better, more solid plot. Nonetheless, here's chapter 2. :)

Two: Enlightenment. 

Hermione had taken as much time as she could to settle into her new quarters. She desperately needed the time alone to get herself together. Draco had provided her with the room on the second floor, at the far end of the corridor to give her some sense of privacy she suspected. When she had asked where his living quarters were, he had merely gestured to the room on the opposite end of the hallway. Malfoy had taken up residency of two rooms it seems; one being his private bedroom and the other his study. The wizard with storm grey-eyes hadn’t much of an opportunity to say anything else, as he rocked Petro to sleep while humming a lullaby under his breath that Hermione couldn’t recognize.

Sorting through the extra clothes she had packed into her extendable bag; Hermione re-folded each garment before slotting them into the small bedside drawer. She could stay here for four days and three nights – that shouldn’t be a problem at all. She’s been through much worse. Handling Malfoy would be a breeze given that Hermione had confiscated his wand. Hermione held open her bag and _accioed_ a piece of parchment, her quill and a bottle of ink to begin writing her letter. She decided on keeping the note short and sweet, without further explanation as to why she had suddenly decided to go on a sudden holiday. She included her reports inside the envelope, knowing fully well that her colleagues wouldn’t have any problems with the rest of the work week since she had already covered each of their responsibilities so far. She held the sealed envelope firmly in her hand as she trudged down the staircase.

As Hermione stepped onto the first floor of the _Red Ribbon_ , she caught a glimpse of Aaila chasing down Magnolia, turning three complete rounds around a tree before Magnolia bolted towards the back of the Inn. Both girls took the gleeful laughter with them as a summer wind blew past. Hermione neared the front entrance of the inn, and held her hand against the window frame as she peered down at Edward and Taewoon seated on a log. The older boy was reading a picture book to the smaller boy who was quietly sucking his thumb in Edward’s lap.

“They know how to occupy themselves,” Draco voiced from behind her. At the sound of his voice, Hermione couldn’t help but freeze on the spot before reminded herself that this time, there was nothing to fear. She took a deep breath and turned around just as Draco continued. “The Strange siblings are independent enough that I don’t need to harass them to do much. Can’t say the same for Aaila though. An unrelenting ball of energy, that one.”

“And Taewoon?” She murmured questioningly, glancing over her shoulder to watch how Edward was pointing to the words in the picture book and repeating them over and over in the clearest voice he could manage. Taewoon nodded at each annotation, but didn’t follow Edward’s cues to repeat them.

Draco placed down two plates and a set of cutleries on the table as he answered her. “Hasn’t spoken his first words yet, according to Blaise. Edward’s determined to teach him a word or two by reading to him every day.”

She had taken a short shower before coming down, but her thick mane was still slightly damp. If she looked unpresentable, Draco made no comment of it and instead gestured to the small round table behind them where they had had their short, inconclusive meeting. Hermione narrowed down her gaze at the dinner he’d prepared for the both of them- two leftover servings of the grilled salmon that Draco had made for the children earlier, neatly cut loaves of bread and two mugs of coffee for both of them. The humble spread came with dessert as well, which was a side of chocolate pudding in a plastic tupperware.

“I figured that you haven’t had dinner yet and took the liberty to prepare some food for you.” Draco murmured under his breath. “If there’s a drink you’d prefer- “

“I’ll be skipping dinner Malfoy.” Hermione answered curtly. “I only came down to ask if you could help me owl this to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, Level Three.”

“You’re dealing with Muggle Politics?” Draco asked, keeping his tone calm and free of any judgement. “I assumed that you’d be an Auror by now, like Potter.”

Hermione sniffled her nose as she placed the letter on the table, directly in front of Draco. Her eyes lingered a tad bit longer on the dinner he’d prepared for her, no them both. “Harry was given a straight ticket into the Auror ranks, unlike the rest of us. He’s been an Auror for two years already. I’ve been honoured with an opportunity to cut short my Auror training to a year instead, so in three months I’ll be joining Harry side by side as a fellow Auror.”

Draco pursed his lips in thought from where he sat at the table. “So…this is an internship then? Figures.”

The familiar irksome feeling lighting up Hermione’s nerves reminded her of how Draco had always been the one to jump at any opportunity to look down on his peers. She gathered her hair into a low ponytail with the hair tie on her left wrist, forgoing brushing the dampness out of it only for something to do to keep herself busy and distracted. She can and will hold her tongue, not wanting to give Draco a satisfying response to stroke his ego or any sort of indication that he’d pissed her off again just like old times.

The wizard on the other hand, had merely whistled for his eagle owl who came flying into the Inn through the open backdoor. Hermione watched as the magnificent bird landed on Draco’s shoulder in one fell swoop. The eagle owl’s wingspan was probably larger than Taewoon and bowed its head ever so politely to its Master. Hermione leant back against the door as she watched Draco’s soothe the dull brown feathers of the bird’s back with affectionate strokes before feeding him a portion of his grilled salmon. The bird ate it up enthusiastically as Draco fit the letter in between its razor-sharp talons. With another dismissive whistle from Malfoy, it took off through the front door. The children outside had clattered excitedly, screaming after the bird by the name of Greg and bidding him goodbye. Hermione stifled a laugh, perhaps she could ask Draco the story behind the muggle name another time. She turned on her heel to face Draco, and by mistake her lips were still drawn into a wide, humoured smile.

Then, there was silence. Hermione’s eyes took in Draco’s lanky frame, apparently not used to the sight of Lord Malfoy seated at such a small table with an equally smaller portion of dinner. Draco met her eyes with a mix of confusion and admiration reflected in them that Hermione just couldn’t place. The witch was beyond bewildered at this point. She had assumed that the next time she’d see Malfoy would be _absolutely never_ or at least rotting away half-dead in Malfoy Manor. But instead, he had been given a lighter sentence of house arrest, due to her court statement to defend him against his war crimes. However, Hermione wasn’t alone in her beliefs. There were others who stood in favour of Draco’s innocence; Headmistress McGonagall, Luna Lovegood and even Hagrid had put in a word for Draco despite whatever pretences were in between the wizard and half-giant.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to side with those who wanted to punish him so badly and see him rot to death in Azkaban like his father – Narcissa had suffered a sudden death from illness a mere two days before Draco’s sentencing. The heir to the Malfoy Family had received the news of his beloved mother’s death while he was still in his cell at Azkaban Prison, forced to face the sheer despair and torment alone. Harry hadn’t spoken a word to her for a few months after news of her actions defending Malfoy made the headlines in the Daily Prophet; _The Golden Girl, jumps to defense of ex-Death Eater Draco Lucius Malfoy_. At the very least, Hermione was more than thankful that Harry hadn’t mention it even once in the six years that had passed and continued their friendship as if the apparent ‘betrayal’ was nothing. Ron on the other hand had a much more adverse, near violent reaction.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hermione blurted out, hand going to her left forearm to unknowingly scratch at the scar there. Her sudden motion doesn’t go unnoticed, Draco leapt up from his seat to snatch her hands away.

With their hands suddenly pressed together in a sudden intimate manner, Hermione’s words got caught up in her throat. Draco looked as equally stunned as her as if something else entirely had controlled him to curl his large hands around both her wrists. Hermione couldn’t break away from Draco’s intent stare, feeling her face heat up by the millisecond at their sudden compromising situation. Draco didn’t seem to want to break away from her and Hermione noticed how his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down gulping his nervousness.

“There isn’t a single restaurant or bar open for the next couples of hours till nine p.m., Granger.” Draco murmured instead. Hermione had to crane her neck to look him in the eye, and her breath stuttered at how close his storm-grey eyes were. “I think that it would be for the best to eat here. If you prefer not to dine with me, I can bring your portion to your room. I need to watch the children while I eat, I hope you understand.”

Hermione snatched her hands away from Draco’s grip once he loosened them. The wizard coughed, then muttered an apology under his breath. In turn, Hermione walked over to her side of the small dining table, and picked up her fork to stab at the grilled salmon. The food was still a little warm, and the smell of basil reawakened her appetite. She found no need to say anything else and concentrated on her food instead while Draco did the same. Halfway through their meal, Hermione realized that the wizard opposite her ate at a much slower pace than her or perhaps it was her who was digging into her meal unashamedly. The tips of her ears turned pink in embarrassment instantly, and she shoved away her anger and hatred directed at the wizard to the back of her head, locked it into a box and dumped it somewhere in a figurative ocean of sorts. She was still a resident at the _Red Ribbon_ , and was taught proper manners for goodness’ sake. Like it or not, Draco was still a wizard with his fair share of rights and obviously cleared of his war crimes – it made no sense to treat him otherwise.

“You haven’t mentioned how much I owe you.” Hermione broke the silence between them, reaching into her extendable satchel for her wallet. “I should pay you first, yes? For my stay here as well, I mean.”

Draco was caught off guard, “I… I think it’s the other way around Granger. I’m forever in your debt, for what you said on my behalf in court. My thanks, is obviously delayed. I didn’t know how to reach you after I was released from Azkaban.”

The young witch immediately bit her bottom lip. The particular subject has her fingers halting immediately from searching for the gold galleons. Draco’s back straightens and his shoulders look even more tense. He opens his mouth as if fumbling over another apology but Hermione shakes her head once which effectively silences him more than a _silencio_ charm could. The witch was quite for a while, alternating between pursing her lips and sneaking a few bites of the grilled salmon into her mouth. It must have taken more than just a few minutes for her to answer Draco.  
  
“Headmistress McGonagall and I agreed that you were coerced into fighting in Voldemort’s name and if you hadn’t, he would’ve murdered you and your parents both. You were merely trying to survive, just like the rest of us.” She stated plainly. “That’s why we spoke in your defence, that day. Your father was solely to blame for putting your family on the wrong side of history, not you, not Narcissa.”

At the mention of his mother’s name, Draco’s body stiffened and his gaze became unfocused. Hermione reached across the table to lay her hand over Draco’s and smoothed her thumb over his open palm in a comforting gesture.

Draco had almost missed the soft, “I’m sorry for your mother’s passing Malfoy. I… I can’t imagine how painful-“

It was half a decade too late, but Hermione had at least a sense of humanity that even she could afford to sympathize with the Slytherin schoolboy who had tormented her younger self. She was mature enough to look past how Draco had treated her, and for a short-lived moment began to believe wholeheartedly the words that eighteen-year-old Malfoy had penned into parchment for the Daily Prophet to publish, exactly till the moment Draco had responded.

“I’ve put her death behind me.” He murmured, picking up his coffee and taking a nonchalant sip. “The healers concluded that she died of heartbreak, upon the news that my father had committed suicide in his cell in Azkaban. There was no tampering involved, no suspicions raised if there were someone in Narcissa’s midst who attempted to murder her. Nothing. She’ll follow my father anywhere. Even in death.”

It must’ve shown on Hermione’s expression, how she paled at Draco’s straight-forward, emotionless explanation. She had yanked her hand away from Draco the moment he mentioned Lucius’ suicide in sheer shock. No news had been revealed of Lucius Malfoy’s death and of course at this point, Hermione had figured out for herself that it had been purposefully kept secret from the eye of the public. Hermione was speechless, aghast at how blatantly crude Draco was at the topic of his parents’ death. She could almost recognize him now by the cold emptiness behind his glassy eyes. Hermione wonders next, how the knowledge of his parents’ death haunted him. Was it in the form of nightmares, the incessant reminder of the physical, mental abuse he suffered or was the reason why he moved to a muggle town because he just wanted to deny his reality- to run away from everything that he was and will ever be? Was that it? Malfoy was attempting poorly at building himself a new reality?

Hermione tries her best not to think as crudely, but ultimately, she couldn’t blame him. She herself had fled the magic world in exchange for the muggle one, for a good three years after she had completed her studies at Hogwarts. She only returned for short trips to the Weasley’s to catch up with her closest friends. Nothing else was worth the return. The wizarding world had thrived on its ‘new normal’ and had buried the history of the Great War behind it as easily as _obliviating_ the indescribable horrors and suffering from the witches and wizards who had fought against Voldemort’s army.

“If you’re doubting Lucius’ suicide, you must know by now that it’s also impossible to commit murder in Azkaban,” Draco dropped his spoon into his plate with a clang. “The guards found him with a shard of glass stuck in his cervical vertebrae. That means his – “

“Neck. His neck. I know.” Hermione swallows roughly, the vivid image of blood pouring out of Lucius’ nape would be trapped in remnants of her sanity for the night.

“Of course you know.” Draco let out a long exhale, eyes falling shut in a mixture of pain and regret. He pinched the bridge of his nose again, looking like he regretted every single world he’d just foolishly blurted out to the witch in his presence. 

Hermione silently placed Draco’s priorly confiscated wand on the round, dining table, returning it to the motionless wizard before fishing out her own. With a flick, her plate of cold salmon lifted into the air and followed her up the stairs. She wordlessly left the impromptu dinner, not caring to check on the unmoving wizard who still sat at the table. She shut her eyes close as she ascended up the steps, dreadfully reminding herself that Slytherins…. Slytherins despise being pitied. Even if her sympathy was from good intentions and the last shred of compassion that Hermione had left, for the boy who had been the source of constant verbal abuse during her childhood.

_Mudblood_.

Hermione scratched at her left forearm once more, digging her fingernails into her flesh and forced herself to believe that it was merely out of habit.

\-------------------------------------------------------

The sound of Draco herding the children into bed was hilarious to say the least. Hermione wouldn’t tell a soul in the world, but she couldn’t help herself and pressed her ear to the thin wooden door to listen in. She had finished her dinner alone in peace, and the food was absolutely delicious despite going cold due to the circumstances of their impromptu dinner. The laughter of young children seemed to automatically lighten the burden she felt on her shoulders. She laughed softly, at the thudding footsteps across the hallway as Aaila attempted to flee from Draco’s hands. Draco was chuckling loudly as well once he finally captured Aaila, and from Aaila’s sudden burst of screaming laughter, had started tickling her into surrender.

Children were marvellous. Their innocence was something to cradle with gentle hands and protect for years to come till they went out into the big scary world on their own. Hermione bit the ends of her fingernails repeatedly, feeling her heart drop to her gut at the realization of Draco’s…coping mechanisms. He hadn’t gone out looking for children to adopt, not consciously from what Hermione assumed. Irregardless of whether he’d done so consciously or otherwise, these children formed the base of his sanity and Hermione would dare say that if they were taken away from him, all that was left would be Draco Malfoy suffering in his loneliness in a small empty Inn. She was willing to bet that Draco had set up an Inn purposefully to be surrounded by muggles, and not witches or wizards alike. To surround himself with _just_ enough noise, talk and laughter to ground him to reality but instead found his salvation in four magical children plus a muggle child he cared for temporarily.

She had charmed her diary quill to take down every silent thought that passed through her mind- a trick she had learnt two days into the compulsory therapy lessons Headmistress McGonagall had helped sign her up for. She simply couldn’t stomach those meetings, though they were eighty percent educational and eye-opening, there were still interpersonal issues that she couldn’t for the life of her, ever, face. She tilted her finger upwards and sent both parchment and quill back to land into her bedside drawer. Diary-taking never suited her but Hermione had found that her memory was not as strong as she’d like to admit. From her personal experience, her breakdowns and nightmares in the night would cloud her memory the next morning, so much so that she wouldn’t be able to remember what she had done the day before at all. Thus, the diary-taking had been made a compulsory chore at the end of the day.

Hermione walked over to the window, suddenly catching sight of a woman speaking to Draco. She peered through the glass, realizing that the woman was indeed Petro’s mother by the way she gingerly took Petro from Draco’s strong arms. They appeared to make small talk, and the embarrassed smile Petro’s mother gives Draco at a comment the wizard made, doesn’t go unnoticed. Hermione purses her lips, trying to ignore how her personal quill was still writing on parchment in a furious scribble. From the glasses perched on her nose, Hermione couldn’t get a proper look at her face and before she could get her binoculars, the woman had turned to leave, cooing down at her sleeping baby boy.

“Drat.” Hermione murmured to herself. She waved the quill away with another flick of her hand, “Cancel that last page. Now.”

The charmed quill did as was told, before Hermione quite literally snatched it from mid-air and shoved it into its drawer. With a frustrated sigh, she fell backwards into the bed with a thump. The children had ceased their noise and by the silence Hermione assumed that Draco had succeeded in putting them to sleep. She stared at the ceiling, juggling of her choices of entertainment for the night – a book about Metamorphaguses or should she risk using Malfoy’s floo transport in his study (once he’s asleep of course) to consult Harry about her predicament?

She wasn’t given a chance to make a decision. There came a knock on the door.

The young witch sucked in a surprised gasp, quickly rushing over to the door with a pit pat of her bare feet. She smoothed down her thick, vermillion robe before opening the door. Draco stood there, with an apologetic smile, two crystal glasses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. Hermione pulled her robe tighter to her chest, absentmindedly realizing that Draco was dressed in pyjama pants and a flimsy white tee. The ensemble did little to hide anything from Hermione’s imagination, and she struggled to focus her eyes above Draco’s neck instead of lingering a little farther below.

“I’m truthfully afraid of how many times I’ll need to say this to you Granger.” Draco started. He took a deep breath. “but I’m dreadfully sorry for my inexcusable behaviour this evening, and hope that a drink…would be an appropriate gesture for a truce.”

Hermione flashed him the brightest smile she could manage, though forced she hoped that Draco would understand that his apology was accepted. She snatched up the crystal glasses from his hands before squeezing past him, making her way to the staircase “You should give yourself a pat on the back Malfoy. Apologizing when you’re required to is a good habit to upkeep, especially since you’re a new man now hm?”

Hermione doesn’t wait for Draco’s response. The wizard in turn, mumbles something about how he’d set up a table at the back of the Inn and she happily obliges. She walks out the back door but halts abruptly at the setting Draco had prepared. Countless small candles had been lit and surrounded the small round table that sat in the middle of the back garden. From where Hermione stood, the Inn overlooked a field of wildflowers and the dark night above with its crystal stars blinking in the distance. She smiled to herself gazing out at the breath-taking view, silently appreciating the change of sights compared to one you’d commonly see downtown- dreadful and cold. Draco retrieved the glasses from her hands and began pouring them both a drink.

Hermione finally turned to face Draco when he offered her the now half-filled glass. They clinked their glasses together, both still not saying a word before taking a careful sip. Hermione didn’t break the eye contact between them till Draco took his seat. She followed suit, tucking her knees to her chest to face the view of the wildflowers. For some time, both witch and wizard sat wordlessly, appreciating the other’s presence in silence. Except for the occasional chorus of cricket sounds and a car driving past, it was so quiet that Hermione could hear Malfoy’s steady breathing; _inhale, exhale._

“Is this why you left?” Hermione whispered, breaking the silence between them. “The peace? The quiet?”

Draco chuckled lightly. “There’s too many reasons why I left Granger, more than I can count.”

“How about starting with the simplest explanation? In ten words or less?” Hermione questioned, eyes fixed on Draco’s face, propping her chin up with one hand. She crossed one leg over the other and gave him her best friendliest smile.

Draco put out ten fingers, and murmured under his breath as if he was rehearsing his answer. Hermione laughed a little at the display before he finally answered. “Because I would have failed the O.W.L examinations terribly.” With each word, he put down one finger and both of them laughed at Draco’s incredulous answer.

“That doesn’t make sense at all!”

Draco shot her his signature grin, once again raising the glass to his lips. “Your turn.” 

“Oh really? You’re challenging me?” Hermione responds in kind and held out ten fingers as well. She locked gazes with him as she put down one finger for each word in her full answer. “Because I lost my uniform when I was on the run.”

Draco wags a finger at her whilst uncapping the bottle of wine to fill Hermione’s glass a little more. “No no no, that’s an extra word. You explicitly said ten words or less Granger!”

A carefree giggle slipped out of Hermione’s lips, as she leaned back into her chair. “But I really did lose my uniform. I couldn’t find it at all and I don’t remember throwing it away! I swear! Had to purchase a new one.”

In response, Draco had his head tilted back as he laughed with abandon. “You took your uniform with you? Why in Merlin’s beard would you take your Gryffindor Uniform?”

“I don’t know okay!” Hermione exclaimed, downing half of the decadent red wine in her glass and licking her lips. “Force of habit?”

Her sudden confession made Draco almost spit out the drink in his mouth, he leapt up to his feet and hit his chest repeatedly in a desperate attempt to force the liquid down. Hermione burst into another fit of giggles, watching the spectacle in front of her – Draco Malfoy dressed plainly in pyjamas choking on expensive red wine. Hermione squinted at the label of the bottle, recognizing that this particular brand costed more than her monthly salary.

“Where in Godric’s name did you get this Malfoy?” She asked astonishedly. “This brew is extremely rare isn’t it?”

Draco gives her a lopsided smirk. “From the old man’s stash. I packed every single alcoholic drink he’s saved up and took it with me here. Wouldn’t want to waste a good drink, right?” 

Hermione took another careful sip before mirroring Draco’s smirk. “It’s bloody delicious.”

The young wizard hummed. “Best to be sharing it with a friend.”

The comment makes Hermione’s blush grow from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. The witch thanks her stars that it’s dark already and hopefully with a bit of luck, Draco wouldn’t notice. Hermione cleared her throat, “Did you just proudly declare me your friend, Malfoy? I thought you hated me with the heat of a thousand suns?”

Suddenly, Draco fished out Hermione’s glass and placed it onto the table. Faster than Hermione could blink or protest, Malfoy had picked her up by the arm and led her to the middle of the garden. They were both bare footed, stepping into the wet dirt carelessly. At Hermione’s bewildered expression, Draco suddenly bowed and held a hand outward for her to take. An invitation? She gently took the wizard’s hand, before Draco slowly pulled her closer to himself.

“Like you said, I’m a new changed man and to maintain that, I should probably procure better social habits no?” Draco drawled, and Hermione couldn’t help the butterflies fluttering in her stomach at the lopsided grin Draco threw her way. He continued. “I’m just a wizard who’s adapted the life of a muggle Granger, stubbornly trying to put his past behind him before a certain witch appeared at his doorstep.”

Hermione followed Draco’s lead, being twirled around just as Draco mentioned her as the ‘certain witch’. With a stuttering gasp, Hermione realized she was being pulled tightly to his chest. Draco’s arms were strong and solid, warm around her waist. Her sleeping robes had fallen off her shoulders, and exposed her lace sleeping gown to the cool midsummer night air. Draco stills his movements when Hermione tenderly encircled her arms around his neck. They were silent again, admiring each other under the moonlight before Draco began to sway her back and forth gently.

“Is that why you don’t have a house elf?” Hermione inquires. She straightened her back completely, realizing that the distance between their faces was beginning to shorten by each second passing.

“I would’ve scared them muggles away if I’d brought a house elf.” Draco revealed as he pulls up the sleeves of Hermione’s robes over her shoulders, when she had made no move to adjust them. “I released them all either way, didn’t want them to think they’d have to serve the Malfoy family anymore.”

“That’s admirable of you…” Hermione trailed off as Draco began to sway them to the music of the crickets, the song of the night. “Including everything that you’re doing with the children as well, compared to my progress as of late.”

“What’re you talking about?” Draco murmurs under his breath, frowning unapprovingly. “I might be a wealthy heir but no amount of galleons could get me what you already have Granger.”

“And what is that?” Hermione’s voice had turned to a whisper. _Why_ , she didn’t really know.

Draco twirled her once more in his firm embrace, “Friends. Family. Love. Loyalty. You’ve returned to society much more seamlessly than I have, of course. I’ve avoided it completely.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hermione was downright confused, and her tone changed to one of concern. “Society?”

“You’re the first witch I’ve spoken to since I left Malfoy Manor. It’s been six years Granger.” Draco finally reveals. He takes a step back, lifts her hand and places a chaste kiss on top of it before letting go completely.

The sudden revelation has Hermione’s world spinning on its axis uncontrollably. She held her hands to her chest in shock, from both Draco’s sudden revelation and the lingering touch of his lips on her hand. The warmth seemed to bloom there, from her pale skin and upwards to colour her cheeks a bright shade of pink. In combination with the butterflies set aflight in her stomach, she was rendered speechless. Had she truly heard him right? In six years? He’s never spoken to anyone in the past six years?

“With the exception of Zabini…whom I reconnected with on peculiar circumstances.” Draco murmured over his shoulder as he trudged back to the table. He snapped his fingers and the candles automatically distinguished themselves and floated back down to the ground. Hermione followed suit, toes curling into the mud and flicking off the dirt with a flick of her wrist.

“You’re the only witch I’ve spoken to in the longest time and because of that, I’d truly be honoured to call you a friend. My friend.” Draco gathered the two now empty glasses and the bottle of red wine, and turned around to face Hermione. “Thus, I would like to ask you a favour. Consider it part of the treaty.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked without missing a beat. Her eyes searched for Draco’s grey ones in the dark, and once she managed to, she’d accidentally stepped too close into his space. She had unknowingly placed her hands atop Draco’s arm, curious as to what the silver blonde wizard might say. She almost missed the sudden intake of breath from the wizard, who seemed taken aback at the contact. She pulled her hands away immediately, retracting her arms to fall limply by her sides. There was a silent moment in between them as Draco debated his answer.

“I’d like to restart our relationship anew. To prove myself a better, more decent man to you. Of course, my behaviour this morning was really too much, but I hope I’m forgiven considering the stress we both had had to endure this entire time.” Draco murmured under his breath. He looked to Hermione for approval, to which the witch nodded wordlessly.

He took a pause, swallowed the non-existent lump in his throat and added almost nonchalantly. “Consider it my first step into re-joining society.”

Hermione pursed her lips, and her mind wandered for a bit. She still had had no idea what Draco was getting at, but she could tell that the wizard was willing to make amends, and the first step was involved her since she had conveniently appeared right his doorstep. Embarrassment filled her like an inflated balloon, almost to the point of bursting into smithereens when Hermione realized that she was almost no different than the children who’d appeared into his life.

She pushed a tentative hand out towards him for a handshake, agreeing to his proposition in the end. “You have one chance Malfoy.” She answered him with a firm, polite tone, “As friends.”

Draco took it, gave her hand a firm shake before he retreated back into the Inn with the wine and glasses. Hermione listened to him return the glassware to where it belonged to the kitchen, as she fumbled with the small item that had been placed into her open palm. She was still standing in the kitchen, unaware that Draco was staring at her from where he stood at the foot of the stairs. She was still scrutinizing the item he had slipped into her hand, a long silk red ribbon with its threads coming loose at the ends.

“Goodnight Granger.” Draco had whispered softly before heading to his bedroom.

Hermione was left alone to stare at the red ribbon in her open palms. Her heart hammered in her chest uncontrollably, left both astounded and confused at the surprise gift Malfoy had placed into her possession. _It couldn’t be? Was he truly?_

“Goodnight Malfoy…” was all Hermione whispered to no one.


End file.
